


Mutterliebe

by KuraiOfAnagura



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Child Neglect, Family Drama, M/M, Past Childhood Trauma, chosen family, distant mother
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-02
Updated: 2019-07-02
Packaged: 2020-06-02 21:20:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,930
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19449724
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KuraiOfAnagura/pseuds/KuraiOfAnagura
Summary: A Tragedy in Three Acts





	Mutterliebe

**Author's Note:**

> This was written as part of the Namida Angst Zine, which raised 850$ for the Trevor Foundation.  
> I'm very happy to have participated in this zine.
> 
> You can find my story in volume one.

**Mutterliebe** **  
** _ A tragedy in three acts _

**// Act I**

The wind that blew over the front court of the Jubileiny skating complex was sharp, harsh and cut right into their skin.

Yuuri Katsuki had moved to St. Petersburg approximately one month ago and on days like these he regretted it, longing for the mild winters in Kyushu. However he’d experienced how his physical fitness had already increased thanks to the incredibly good facility; there was a reason why the complex had produced so many gold medal winners. 

He glanced up from the concrete ground to look at his blond namesake. The need for silence and fresh air was equally strong in the both of them and they would find each other outside mostly at the same time. 

Yuri glared at nothing in particular. He would be 16 soon and he’d won gold at nationals just two weeks ago. Yet the medal sat hard in his stomach and it didn’t feel like a real victory. Not when his main competition had barely trained for three weeks and still managed to be the audience’s favourite. His medal felt second rate.

”My two favourite Yuris! Good morning! How’s Yakov’s mood?“ Mila greeted them as she arrived for her own training session

”You talk too much, baba.“ Yuri answered in English while she’d asked in Russian. Yuuri had started to learn that these small things were Yuri’s own way of showing how he cared; he just hadn’t learned yet how to put it into words. Yuuri thought it was ok though, he was far from getting his shit together at 15 almost 16, and even now at 24.

”Excuse me?“ asked a young voice in Russian. The little boy had appeared out of nowhere. Yuuri had taken language courses during college with Phichit teasing him mercilessly about why he chose Russian, and while he could understand a lot there was always some difference between classroom conditions and when the native speakers were talking. Yakov’s slurs, Mila’s unknown vocabulary and Yuri’s broad Moscovian dialect challenged him even further. The language of a child was even harder for him to understand.

“Can you tell me where Yuri Plisetsky is? I’d like to visit him.“

“Oh, wow, hi, and who are you?“ Mila asked with a smile.

“I’m his little brother! Mama and Papa came here to visit somebody so I don’t have to go to school, but it was boring so I took the bus here!“

The three skaters blinked at him, dumbfounded for several seconds. Suddenly Yuri pulled his hood from his hair and crouched down to be the boy’s height.

“Are you Alexei?“ he asked and Yuuri was suddenly alarmed by the broken tone in Yuri’s voice. He must’ve misunderstood something. Yuri never mentioned any family aside from his grandfather.

Mila nudged Yuuri with her elbow and murmured “Go and fetch Yakov and Victor. Now!“

“You’re Yuri! I can finally meet you!“ The boy beamed brightly when he recognized the skater in front of him. ”Mama and I watched your tournament where you won gold! You were so good! I tried to jump like you did, but I only fell down and wow that hurt! I also wanted to watch that competition in Spain, but Mama said it was too late for me and I had to look it up on the internet. Did you really break a world record? Are you now better that Nikiforov? My friends at school won’t believe me that you’re my brother, because we don’t have the same name or patronymic. But it’s true, right? You’re my big brother!“

They boy babbled happily seemingly unfazed by Yuri’s lack of response. He knew of Alexei, of course. His Deda had never tried to hide anything regarding his mother from him. Nikolai had been overstrained by suddenly raising a little boy; Yuri never felt like he lacked any love from his grandfather, but even  _ he _ had to admit that he was raised with tough love.

“Does Natalya know you’re here?” he brusquely interrupted the bright chatter.

“Uhm,” The boy looked positively guilty. His huge green eyes stared pleadingly up at him and Yuri noticed how he had the same light blue flecks as he did. His hair was a sandy brown though and some freckles dusted his nose.

Yakov came to his rescue with long strides, followed by Victor. Alexei got scared by the gruff face and ducked behind Yuri who remained stiff and unmoving. Victor stepped next to him, but knew better than to hug him, even though everything in him told him to.

“Don’t touch me,” Yuri said in low monotone, and Victor’s heart broke a little.

“Yakov will call… them. Let’s go inside, you don’t have to see her,” Victor tried to cajole him, but Yuri shook his head as he stood up and pulled his hood back over his head again.

“It’s not his fault,” he said lowly, gesturing to the little boy being lectured by Yakov for running off from his parents. Victor looked surprised by Yuri’s mature answer; while he might resent his mother, he was thoughtful enough not to take it out on his little brother, despite what his very presence stood for. But the tight body language, the blank face and dull eyes spoke of the pain he must be experiencing. 

Alexei was released from Yakov’s lecture and started chatting again with Yuri. About how he also liked cats, but they had a family dog, and if Yuri would come visit them for his birthday. He hoped Yuri would also like their dog, because he was really cute. He’d gotten his first mobile for Christmas and used it to follow Yuri on social media first thing after unpacking it.   
Yuri didn’t answer much, only nodding and humming vacuously when asked a direct question.

It took Alexei’s parents only 15 minutes after Yakov’s call to reach the sports complex. They’d noticed the absence of their son and had already started a search.

Yuuri stayed politely in the background, not really getting what was going on. He read the atmosphere and decided against asking for a translation from Victor; at least until the problem had been resolved. The woman that hurried over the forecourt made everything clear. If Yuri had been a girl he probably would’ve looked just like her. Heck, even now he looked like her. The same shade of blond, the same unique blue green eye colour and the same fae-like beauty.

She came to a halt and crouched down in front of Alexei, throwing her arms around him and tugging him into a close hug, smothering and kissing him with motherly warmth.

“Ah, Alyosha, I was so worried! You can’t run away like that! What were you thinking?”

“But Mama, I wanted to visit Yuri!” His voice held the characteristic whine of a small child.

His mother stopped in her tracks and looked up for the first time. Her eyes fell on Yuri who’d slumped further into himself.

“Yuri…” she said, her warm smile suddenly a thin line and her voice laced with guilt. Yuri flinched as if he’d been slapped.

Victor stepped between them. “Alexei, you’re always welcome here, but please tell us beforehand if you come, ok? Madam Petrov I have to ask you and your husband to leave this facility immediately.”

“But-” she started and leaned to her side, eager to catch a glimpse of her other son, but Victor was fast to block her again. 

“Believe me when I say you are interrupting the training of the Russian national team. Please leave.”

The man that had arrived several steps behind her stepped forward and took her gently by the arm, murmuring to her to just let it go.

“Bye Yuri! Bye other skaters!” Alexei shouted when they were down the steps, waving enthusiastically and seemingly unfazed by the grim atmosphere. 

The attention shifted immediately towards Yuri. Yakov sighed deeply and asked Victor. “Can you take him home to yours? Lilia’s in Paris for the week and I don’t want him on the ice or alone.”

“I wanted to suggest the same. Yuuri, dear, please get ours and Yura’s bag, would you?” Victor said to his boyfriend, switching to English in the middle of his sentence. Yuuri, who’d regarded Yuri’s rigid figure with concern, perked up and made his way into the locker rooms. He collected their stuff and made it to the parking lot in record time, throwing the bag into the back and taking the front seat. He was surprised that Yuri hadn’t called shotgun but instead sat slumped in the backseat. He appeared withdrawn and in pain, but Yuuri was unsure how to proceed.

“You can tell the Piggy, y’know?”

“We’ll be home soon,” was all Victor answered. Yuri opted to just look out of the window.

They arrived to a quiet apartment, Makkachin was away with her dog-sitter for the day. Yuri stood silent and unmoving in the hallway, he didn’t look at them as he whispered, “She came for him.” Victor moved instantly, catching Yuri just in time his body decided to break down. He cried into Victor’s shoulder like a wounded animal, screaming and sobbing at the same time. The two slid down and Victor rocked him gently back and forth, stroking his hair and telling him softly that everything was going to be ok.

Yuuri felt out of place. He still didn’t really know what exactly was going on, but he knew a mental breakdown when he saw one. As much as he wished to also hug his rival and friend, he knew it would be out of place and would only upset Yuri further. So instead he went to do what was within his options. First step was tea, choosing a soothing herbal blend and putting a big blob of honey in each cup. Next was a safe space. Yuuri thought about the things that helped when having an anxiety attack and he went and cleaned out the guest room; even if he and Victor shared a big bed most of the time, he still felt better when he had the option for a secluded space for himself. Yuri’s broken sobs sounded through his work and he could hear bits of pieces like ((  _ “I’m not good enough” “defective first version” “who could love- _ ”. )) He changed the sheets and put the fluffy fleece blanket from the couch under the comforter just as Victor arrived, carrying the blond boy into the room. It was scary how small he still looked for a boy of nearly 16. The crying had stopped but he was in a catatonic state, unable to protest when he was tucked in by both Victor and Yuuri.

Yuuri left the room to give them some space and retreated to the couch.

“I fear my tea has gone cold,” Victor sighed as he stepped out of the guest room.

“Still drinkable,” Yuuri replied and scooted to the side. Victor sat down but made no move to take the mug.

“Can I tell you what’s going on?”

“Please, if it’s your place to tell me. I… I want to be able to help him, too. I’ve never seen him like that. Not that I know him as well as you do, of course.”

“You know that Yuri has lived with his grandfather since he was small?”

“Yeah, he called him the source of his Agape and he made us Katsudon Piroshki for Rostelcom. They were really  _ vkusno _ !” Victor nodded and smiled at Yuuri’s attempt to cheer him up.

“Yuri’s mother got pregnant accident. Her mother had agreed to help her and so she moved back home, had Yuri and then set off to work again. She had to move away for work and was practically a stranger to her own baby. Anna Plisetsky, Yuri’s Babulya, died when he was three in an accident and Natalya couldn’t or wouldn’t move home, even though Nikolai asked her to. When Yuri was five she’d met her now husband and made plans to take Yuri with her. I don’t know what exactly happened, but they’d told Yuri that she was pregnant and he would get a little brother or sister and Yuri took it as if she’d replaced him. According to Nikolai it went very poorly and they all decided to try another time. When Natalya tried for the last time there were already discussions for Yuri to move here for his skating. She apparently tried to to include him, but obviously not enough and managing such an angry child was hard work and she’d decided to go for the more comfortable option.   
Meeting the child that got all of his mother’s love has to hurt more than we can comprehend.”

Yuuri wiped his tears with a tissue. Never would he have thought Yuri’s anger came from so much hurt. “What did he mean with (( ‘ _ she came for him _ ’?” ))

“Ah, that. I think it was three or four years ago. Nikolai had tried to smooth things between them and coerced Yuri to at least talk to her. It was during a competition in Moscow and I think it was Yuri’s last year as a novice? No, he had to be a Junior already... I can’t really remember to be honest. But it was planned that Natalya would go to the competition and pick him up afterwards to bring him back home. But there was an emergency at her work and she had to leave before Yuri could skate. Ever since then he’d blocked her and his grandfather’s attempts to establish any kind of contact.”

“Poor Yuri,” Yuuri said as he put his heavy head on Victor’s shoulder. “No wonder he flipped so much when you went to Japan.”

“Oh,” Victor stiffened under him. “That really does explain it…”

“You didn’t draw the conclusion? Oh, Victor…”

“I know, I know,” Victor sighed heavily and leaned back on the couch.

“We have to do better, Vitya, we have to make sure to show Yuri how much he’s loved.”

“You’re right as always, solnyshko.”

  
  


**// Act II**

“Deda? Im home!” Yuri called as he nearly fell flat on his face in his attempt to close the door and pull of his shoes simultaneously while balancing the heavy backpack on his shoulders.

“Yuratchka! How’s my Olympic champion?” His grandfather appeared in the doorway that led to the kitchen, beaming brightly. 

Yuri playfully rolled his eyes but his cheeks reddened with pride. “Deda, come on, that was months ago!”

“Your silver will stay forever, Yuratchka! I’ll never stop being proud of you!” He said, changing the proverb. Nikolai gestured to the two Olympic medals from Pyeongchang, one silver from the team competition and one from the single event. It had kind of stung to lose to Katsudon, but it was his last season and Beka’s bronze medal made him nearly happier than his own.

“How long are you staying?” his grandfather asked as he gestured for him to sit down at the table, dishing up borscht and bread.

“Yakov gave me two weeks, then I’m flying with Lilia to London. She arranged that I can train with the Royal Ballet. After that it’s two weeks in Almaty with Beka and the rest of the offseason Yakov’s sending me to Japan, so Victor can teach me how to work on my own choreography.”

“My little jetsetter! All around the globe. But teaching is a good point. How about your education?”

“Yeah, yeah. Lilia organized a tutor for me in London and if all goes well I’ll probably get my diploma around November.”

“And after that?”

“Will you ever be satisfied, Deda?”

“Hah! No. Will you?”

Yuri smirked around his spoon. “I already looked up some courses for university for the spring term. I’m going to use my own choreography next season and I’m finally back to my full capability after growing so much. I have to concentrate on that and then I can start with uni.”

Nikolai nodded under bushy eyebrows. He might not like for Yuri to wait some months, but he trusted Yuri’s evaluation of the situation.

“There’s a letter for you under the mirror,” he said as neutral as possible but couldn’t fool Yuri. He looked up to the clattering spoon and saw the worry in his grandson’s eyes.

“From?”

“You’ll see.”

Yuri stood up and marched towards the mirror in the hallway. The shelf under it was the place for every sort of different clutter; keys, letters, dried flowers and sometimes medals. The letter bore no stamp, but had his name handwritten on it. When he turned the envelope he froze.

“You’re 18 now. I can’t make you do anything you don’t want to. But he’s not your mother and from what he’d told me he wasn’t sent by her either.”

“You talked to him? What, does he come here when I’m not home? Or do you visit them? The convenient family, with the normal convenient children? So he’s not only a better substitute son, but also a better substitute grandson now?”

“Yuri!” Nikolai’s voice boomed through the small house, rattling Yuri’s core like nothing else could. For a moment he felt small and guilty and young, but then his anger flared up again. Both Plisetskys were hot blooded, and none of them usually held back when it came to a fight, but right now their opponent was the only person they loved. Nikolai grabbed the doorframe, but Yuri chose to clear the situation. He grabbed his keys, slipped into his sandals and was out of the door in a flurry of blond hair.

\--

“Ok, spill the beans, what do you want?”

The boy stopped dead in his tracks and nervously scratched the back of his head as he attempted a lopsided smile. “Uhm, the same as last time, actually?”’

Yuri’s eyes squinted dangerously and Alexei’s smile fell. He knew of course how he came across. That darn growth spurt that had ruined nearly two seasons had catapulted him at 1.86m and in the light sleeveless hoodie with the hood drawn over his head along the shredded jeans and bulky boots gave him just the right punk vibe to intimidate a still scrawny teenager.

“G-getting to know you. A-and apologizing for uhm… just barging into your life. That was a shitty move, I see that now?”

“You said so in your letter. Anything else?”

“Congratulations for silver?”

“...”

“Sorry for existing?”

Finally Yuri broke posture and rolled his eyes. 

They met at the deserted playground of a school, a good meeting point during summer. After Yuri had stormed out on his Deda, he’d wandered aimlessly through his old neighbourhood until he came to a stop by the little stream he used to try to catch fish at as a little child. There he noticed how he’d still held the now crumpled letter in his fist. He sat down on a stone and smoothed the paper on his knees. Yuri Nikolaievich Plisetsky was on the front, Alexei Andrevich Petrov on the back. It took him more than five attempts to read the letter. His fingers twitched for his phone, wanting to call Beka for distraction, Yuuri to discuss it, or even Victor because he knew best how he felt... but he’d forgotten it at home.   
He slunk back into the house when it was already dark, startling his grandfather out of his nap, who’d dragged the armchair in the hallway at the foot of the staircase and angled the TV so he could watch it while waiting for Yuri.

“I don’t want to talk about it,” he said quietly.

“You’re back, that’s all what counts,” his grandfather hugged him briefly before he sent him to bed as if he was still eleven years old. It only dawned on Yuri when he snuggled under the light summer blanket and Koshka, his Deda’s ancient cat, deigned herself to cuddle up to him, that he wasn’t the only one who’d been left behind by his mother.

That thought was his driving force that spurred him to send a short message to the mobile number in the letter with the date and place.

“Don’t try to impress me with teenage angst, you’re standing before one who’s mastered the art of angsting.”

“Ah, okay, good, sorry.”

“So, why did you want to get to know me?”

“Isn’t that obvious? You’re my brother?”

Yuri, obviously, wasn’t impressed.

“And I mean, you’re Yuri Plisetsky?”

“So it’s for the fame?” he scoffed.

“What? No!” Alexei called out, his eyes gone huge as he’d registered what he’d said. “You’re so cool! And so strong and talented! You have long hair and do ballet but you don’t give a shit and everybody respects you for that! You’re just 18 and you won two Olympic medals! And I was just this small boy and suddenly Mom tells me ‘ _ look at him, that’s your brother _ ’ and I felt like I’ve just won the lottery! Who doesn’t want to have such a cool big brother?”

“Flattery won’t get you anywhere, either,” he grumbled, but sat down on a concrete stair which Alexei took as an invitation and sat down next to him as well. He shyly looked up at Yuri with a little smile on his lips.

“Does… uh… she know you’re here?”

“Mo- oh, sorry, I mentioned her, right? I hadn’t planned to do that. Uhm, no, she doesn’t, they think I’m at a friends house. As long as I’m not home too late, they won’t suspect a thing. But aside from that, they can’t really prohibit me from meeting you, right? I mean, it’s not like you’re dangerous or something.”

“Squirt, I dance on knife-like blades on ice and and downright slaughtered 5 grown men during my senior debut.”

Alexei groaned. “Not you, too! Everybody makes fun of me because I’m so small! I hope I’ll grow tall like you one day!”

  
  


**// Act III //**

Whoever dared to knock at his door at motherfucking one in the morning when he had to get up at 5 to be at the rink would pay the price. One arm and leg would be sufficient he decided.

Yuri groaned loudly as he peeked through the door.

“Lyosha, you’ve got to be fucking kidding me! Do you know how late it is?”

“Ah, Yusha! Hi! Good Morning? I mean, yeah, I know how late it is and it’s already morning, right?”

Yuri groaned profoundly and stepped away from the door. “Why are you here? Go back to bed, Beka, it’s ok”

“Who’s that?” Otabek had just exited their shared bedroom, clad only in his grey and turquoise team Kazakhstan sweats.

“That’s-” Yuri started, but as always Alexei’s chatter interrupted him.

“Wow, you’re Otabek Altin! And you just came half naked out of my brother’s bedroom, which has only one bed last time I was here and oh… the fangirls were right.”

“Lyosha, you surround yourself with some seriously bad influences if you follow my fangirls.” Yuri tried to evade Otabek’s questioning eyes that bore into him as he sunk onto the couch.

“Again, why are you here? Does Natalya know you’re here?” He was greeted with unusual silence by his little brother. “What’s it with you and running away from home?”

“Hey! I know from a certain coach of yours how you ran away to Japan at 15!”

“And you think that gave you the permission to run away to Petir at 15? Oh my god, you really ran away? Do you know she can charge me with kidnapping?”

“I’m here out of my own free will!” Alexei countered stubbornly.

“You’re a minor and the police won’t give shit!” Ok, he really deserved the mocking snort from Beka.

“Mo- Nat- … a-a-after Dad… died… she got a new boyfriend. And he’s ok. He said he likes Anjushka a-a-and tries to talk to me normally. But sometimes he gets out with his friends and when he gets home it’s a fifty fifty chance. If he’s funny … or… not.”

Dread filled Yuri like ice water and he was suddenly very much awake. “Did he hurt you? Did he hurt Anna? Or- or … did he hurt her?” Yuri’d never met his little sister, named after their grandmother, but Alexei adored her, determined to be the best big brother possible. She was conceived shortly before Alexie’s father was diagnosed with an Ewing Sarcoma. He died even before his daughter was born, but managed to get everything sorted before he had to go. He organised a therapist for Alexei to prepare him and help him through the several stages of grief, but after the funeral he still ran away to Nikolai, where Yuri arrived two days later to spend his birthday with his grandfather. The brothers had formed a thin bond after their first talk at the playground, but the week Alexei and Yuri spent together at their grandfather’s house brought them closer. 

“I never saw. But Yusha, I’m not stupid. You don’t get a black eye from ‘falling down the stairs’! I couldn’t stand her defending him again and again. So I left. And before I knew it I was on the train to St. Petersburg. I-I’m sorry… I know, I came here at an ass time. I’m sorry. Uh, I’ll just uh, get back to the train station and look when the next train... “

“Don’t be ridiculous, you’re sleeping here. But you need to call her. Now,” he added pointedly.

Alexei rolled his eyes and took out his phone. His call was answered immediately.

“Hey Mom, uhm sorry… I … no I’m ok… I- don’t care what he thinks! Why should it matter? Hey!” But Yuri had already plugged the phone from his ear.

“Natalya. It’s Yuri. He’s come to my apartment.”

Alexei was shocked, never before had he witnessed how Yuri and their mother had spoken to each other. His eyes found Otabek’s and the two shared a silent moment of confusion.

“I just told him he’s welcome here whenever he feels like. I didn’t plan for him to come here at one in the fucking morning. … … Don’t you  _ dare _ to lecture me about my language, you don’t have the right to lecture me about anything. … … What I want? I want you to see that being a parent is not about you being comfortable! I want you to move your ass away from a guy that threatens the safety of your children! I want you to finally put your children’s comfort before your fucking own and I want you to go back in time and not abandon an angry 6-year old just because he was inconvenient!!!”

With a huff he shut off the call and pressed the phone back against Alexei’s chest. Breathing hard he marched into the bedroom and just as Otabek wanted to follow him he came back out again with their guest blanket and pillow.

“You can sleep on the couch, you know how the pullout works. I need to sleep, Beka needs to sleep and you need to sleep. Tomorrow we’ll discuss what we’re going to do next.” He picked up his own phone and sent a voice message to Victor, knowing his coaching team would hear it in the morning. “Vitya, I can’t come in today. I just talked to my mother. Yeah, you heard right. I probably will talk to her later again and we both know I’ll be a danger to myself but more importantly to others if you let me strap on my knifeshoes.” He shut his phone off after that. “Lyosha, good night, you can have Potya if you like. Beka, we’re going to bed.” He took Beka’s hand and tugged him after him into the bedroom. 

As soon as the door closed though, his shoulders fell and Otabek enveloped him from behind as big fat sobs began to shake his lithe frame. His boyfriend held him tight to his chest as he guided them down onto their bed. He knew how much Yuri prefered the close contact whenever he got scared or angry or, like now, everything and more. He stroked his hair and back, held him close and tried his best not to be disgusted by the snot that had started to flow.

  
As they lay there in the their shared darkness, listening to each other’s heartbeats, sharing one body, one breath, one soul... a calmness came over Yuri and it took him a moment to realize that feeling. 

Home.

“You never told me,” Beka whispered, not daring to speak too loud in fear of scaring their moment away.

“You’re the best thing that ever happened to me, Beka. My… mother… I always felt she’s the worst thing that happened to me. She left me behind and when it became clear I was … just too much for her? She gave up on trying to include me in her family. I always felt as if it was my fault. I was too angry, too difficult. A defective, broken child, that nobody wanted.   
But when I’m with you I feel… whole? Complete? Like I don’t need to be perfect, just be me?    
And some part of my mind was convinced that when I… when I tell you, my most happy place to be, about that dirty ugly thing… I don’t know, I would taint you?”

“Nothing could taint what I feel for you, Yura. I love you and nothing’s going to change that.”

“I love you, too. I’m sorry if I’m brash or blunt or don’t have a filter-”

“Yura! You’re it, too, you know?”

“What?”

“My home. You’re also my home.”

**Author's Note:**

> I want to thak everybody included in the project  
> The time on the discord server was really fun!
> 
> I've first struggled with the idea of writing angst and thought about what trope induced the heaviest amount of angst in me in the YoI-verse.  
> The answer was either a ABO setting where a person was suddenly stripped of his or her rights upon presentation or being replaced by somebody who ought to care for you no matter what.  
> Obviously I went with the last one x'D


End file.
